


Under The Clothes

by JustAnotherMadOne



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Self Harm, self injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherMadOne/pseuds/JustAnotherMadOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OLD FIC TIME.</p><p>While bored and exploring the base, Scout discovers something that the Medic has been hiding. Now he knows what is lurking under the clothes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Medic's Secret

Scout had done this many times.

He could recall the first time he nabbed the Spy's cloaking device and went around the base, sneaking into everyone's rooms in order to see if there was anything interesting that he could use as blackmail material.

He discovered many things in the process; Soldier liked to listen to songs by Elvis, Demoman seemed to carry a photo of some girl (The Bostonian could swear that he managed to catch utterances of 'Dear Fiona'), Sniper read some strange books (He was still mildly shocked upon finding a copy of 'Lolita' along with 'Sense and Sensibility'), Spy listened to music that was undoubtedly from sort of cabaret show, Engineer would play the guitar and sing a little, Heavy had a weird interest in ghost stories and, what he considered to be a bizarre twist, the Pyro was a girl.

So now he was on his way to the last person to sneak up on; the Medic.

Now he was on his way to the stoic German's room, a smirk gracing his youthful features as the thought of what lurked in the man's room started filling his mind like champagne bubbles. "Gotta be something crazy in there!" he said quietly, activating the stolen cloaking device in his hands.

His steps slowed as he approached the Medic's door. His breath caught in his throat as he gently opened the door, stepping in quickly. The room itself wasn't overly spectacular with everything in a meticulously clean order. The books that were on the shelves were mainly in German, but some were printed in the more familiar language of English. The desk and dressers were tidy and not a single thing was out of place, not even a stray pencil.

Scout crept around the room, trying to pick where he would look first. He settled for the dresser, wondering if there was anything dirty or embarrassing in there. It would be great blackmail material; the clean-cut and bitter doctor owning some explicit books or magazines… ha!

Unfortunately, nothing of the sort was there. With a small grumble, Scout settled for checking under the bed and the bookshelves, annoyed that nothing was there either. That left the desk… With careful steps, the young man tip-toed across the room to the dark wooden desk in hopes of finding some treasure…

"Ach… Gott…"

That voice could only belong to one man.

Panic kicking in, the Bostonian checked the battery on the cloaking device… Low. "Ah man, I'm screwed…" he hissed to himself. He quickly looked around the room, eventually going for broke and hiding in the Medic's closet.

As soon as he closed the door (Leaving a tiny crack big enough for him to peer through), the Medic walked in and shut the door behind him, locking it with a click. The man in question sighed, slowly taking off his pale red coat and hanging it over the back of the chair that was sat next to the desk. The gloves came off as well and were placed onto the desk, exposing the man's forearms.

Scout had seen the thin scars on his arms, but when he asked, he was told that they were from the war and afterwards. It was a little bit far-fetched, but it made a smidge of sense… He looked at the man's face, a little surprise flowing into him.

The Medic had a very strong expression in battle, power and madness radiating from his crazed yet bright smile and his barks of 'Raus! Raus!' and 'Horrido!' Yet now, he looked far more tired and pale, sadness etched into his expression and eyes.

Scout watched as the elder slowly loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest and shirt, folding them and placing them neatly onto the same chair were the coat was hanging. This made the Bostonian raise an eyebrow. What was he going to do? This question only intensified when the man walked to the desk and opened up a drawer, rummaging around for something…

He pulled out a small white box, closing the drawer and sitting down on his bed with a sigh. He looked down at his knees for a little, before opening the box and pulled out something…

Three tiny razor blades.

Scout was quiet as he witnessed the Medic set two of the razors down and held the third in his fingers, looking as if he was inspecting it. After a short while, he held it in both his hands and snapped it in half with a flick of his wrist. He placed one half with the others and pressed the one in his hand against his rib cage…

"He wouldn't…" Scout whispered, eyes widening.

A brief flash of pain crossed the Medic's face, blood rising up as the blade was pressed against his skin. He held a poker face as he slowly dragged the blade across his flesh, a red ribbon following. The razor came away, leaving blood to slowly trickle down. Scout couldn't say a word as he watched the blade come down again, this time run above the first cut. A few grunts of pain left the Medic, but remained mostly silent.

The blade was dropped and the second half took its place. More incisions. A few grunts, followed by quiet mutters. Cut. Blood. Replace. Cut. Blood. Replace…

It continued until the blades were all used and thin lines ran along the Medic's side with red dribbling from them. The man in question remained still before picking up the bloody razors and throwing them into an almost empty bin, walking off to the bathroom that was connected.

Scout remained still until he heard the shower begin running. He slowly crept out of the closet and to the door, unlocking it and when he was in the hall, he closed it again. After a bit, he darted off, unbelieving of what he had witnessed.

"Why was he doing that?" He asked himself.

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And YES, I DARE write something about THIS topic. I'm sorry if it offends anyone, but I'm not trying to glamorise self-injury, so please don't say so.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this goes down okay nonetheless and, keep reading!
> 
> I was trying be historically accurate with music; Elvis was big around the 50's and I imagined Soldier listening to 'Hound Dog', which was released around 1956.  
> Why was Spy listening to Cabaret? Well two words: Moulin Rouge. XD  
> The books that are mentioned with the Sniper are 'Lolita' by Vladimir Nabokov and 'Sense and Sensibility' by Jane Austen (Since one of his quotes references her).  
> And I still insist that the Pyro is a girl! Sorry, I'm incredibly stubborn about it. :/


	2. Contemplation

The Next Day…

Scout sat quietly in the mess hall as everyone else ate their breakfast, only shifting small spoonfuls of oatmeal to the sides of the bowl. Normally he would devour his food in a nanosecond and then dart off, but after what he had seen yesterday, it plagued his mind too much.

"Is little baby Scout okay?" Their team Heavy asked, who had polished off his 'Sandvich'.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." He lied quickly. "I just… uh… don't feel hungry, I think I'll go and get ready for today, okay?" And without giving the Russian a chance to respond, the Bostonian got up and walked swiftly out of the mess hall.

His steps were quick and quiet, his expression grim as he thought about what was going on. Even if he tried his hardest, he couldn't shake off the images of Medic slitting his skin and how it seemed like he wasn't entirely bothered by it. "I need to know why the hell he's doing that…" he mumbled quietly.

He immediately set off to the Medic's room once more.

In what seemed like a few second blur, Scout reached the room in question and slipped inside. Without a moment's hesitation, he started searching the room again in hopes of finding something to explain the doctor's behaviour…

After at least five minutes, the young man gave up. "For God's sake!" he shouted. All of the books that could have been useful were written in German and his lack of expertise in languages didn't help. Neither did the fact that the English books were on human anatomy and stories about people he had never heard of. "Now that I think about it, who the hell's 'T.E Lawrence'? And Winston Churchill sounds familiar…"

Another set of footsteps.

"Dammit, not again!" He bolted around, attempting to put all of the books back into place. Once that was done and realising he was completely trapped, he resolved to hide in the closet again. It was a case of déjà vu for him.

The Medic walked in, looking serious. Instead of going for the box of blades that   
lurked in the drawers of the desk, the German only went around and put on his gloves and coat, leaving immediately while muttering about 'psychotic dummkopfs'.

Coast was clear.

Scout slowly opened the door and sighed as he found himself alone in the man's room. "I better get ready for battle today, now is not the time to be distracted by this."

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I was aiming for historical accuracy! So what I had in mind was 'Revolt in the Desert' by T.E. Lawrence (People who have played Uncharted 3 like I have are probably going to have a mild idea of who he is) and it was published in 1922. And also the biographies on the Second World War by Winston Churchill were done short after the war and he got a Nobel Prize for it in the 50s.  
> P.S. I admit, I was sort of going by my belief and what Valve has said, which was 'The Medic is NOT a Nazi'. Hence, why he has biographies written by people from England. :P


	3. Suspicious

"YOU FAILED!"

A chorus of groans emerged from the RED team as the Announcer shouted those words. It seemed as though the entire battle had gone downhill completely, starting from when Scout hadn't defended the Soldier as planned, which led to the downfall of their tactics.

No surprise that the young man had received the most scolding out of anyone else.

"KEEP YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OUTTA THE CLOUDS, MAGGOT!" Soldier boomed, a vein throbbing on the side of his thick neck. "YOU DIDN'T STICK TO THE STRATEHY AND THAT'S WHY WE FAILED TODAY! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!"

The Bostonian tuned out what the psycho was saying, only giving in built-in responses. Yes, sir. No, sir. It won't happen again. I can assure you that…

It continued on for a while until everyone eventually headed back to their respective rooms, some still offering poisoned remarks to Scout. He sighed as he slowly walked out of the room, wondering if he should check on what the Medic was doing… But he'd probably be running silver blades across his already scarred flesh, leaving scarlet ribbons in their wake and then he'd gasp and scold himself…

Stop it.

Why was he even BOTHERED about the Medic?

His thoughts were only stopped when a familiar Texan drawl broke into his thoughts. "You okay boy?"

Scout turned around quietly, finding Engineer standing there with his arms crossed and his face showing true concern. Damn. He had always had a knack for being able to tell what was wrong with others if they didn't behave in their usual manner. The man in question walked forward. "I'm fine." Scout answered.

Engineer only half-scowled. "I'm not convinced. Normally, you're runnin' 'round like a jackrabbit when we're out fighting but today… You've been very distracted, like something's bothering you.

The Bostonian kept silent. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry, I couldn't get myself to stop thinking about how I've watched the Medic try and flay himself with razor blades. I don't even know why I care about whether his skin falls off his bone frame'? "I'm fine. I just feel a little tired." He lied, heat swelling at the back of his neck.

The Texan shook his head. "No need to lie." He said simply, his expression serious even though his eyes couldn't be seen. "I can tell something is bothering you and I think it best if you tell me."

"I. Am. Fine." Scout said bluntly, irritation building up. "Just… Leave me alone, okay!?" Without giving an opportunity for the elder to interrogate him further, he ran out of the room.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit…!" Scout chanted to himself angrily, mentally beating himself for acting so harshly towards Engineer. He only wanted to make sure he was okay!

He finally slowed down when he felt that no one else was nearby. A few quiet pants left his lips and he slowly walked off, contemplating further on any possible reason why the Medic was doing such a thing. But he also asked the same question along with it.

Why did the Scout even care?

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, no major cultural references here but I will admit; some of the writing style in this one was sort of based on 'Wintergirls' by Laurie Halse Anderson, which is one of my favourite books EVER.
> 
> Now that I think about, talk about coincidence considering the main character Lia cuts herself...
> 
> And I should get off of YouTube while writing these things considering I kept on listening to a starnge variety of songs while writing this chapter, three of them being:  
> :bulletblue:'Keibetsu Shiteita Aijou' by AKB48  
> :bulletblue:'You Know My Name' by Chris Cornell  
> :bulletblue:'Cosmos' by Your Favourite Enemies
> 
> Anyway, I shall keep on going! 8D


	4. A Solution?

It had to stop.

Scout knew this.

He couldn't help but try and sneak into the Medic's room whenever possible; quietly observing the Medic and the new red lines that ran across his arms, legs and sides. But Scout knew that he couldn't just openly tell Medic that he knew what he was doing; it would NOT end well at all.

But now he knew.

Now he realized why he did this.

He was scared.

He was scared for the Medic's life.

Ignoring the possibility of danger or having another dove into his chest, the Bostonian crept around the hallways and slipped into the German's room. He knew what he was going to do; but whether it would work or not…

"It could probably just help it slow down a little…" He tried to reassure himself; repeating that mantra as he snuck further towards the desk and sliding open that drawer. He grabbed the white box and quickly shoved it underneath his shirt, hoping that no one walked in at that very moment to catch stealing from the elder. Scout silently and gently closed the drawer and walked off.

It didn't seem to work.

After the battle for the day, the Medic went off to his room and when he came back, he looked very irritated. "Okay then, someone stole some razors from my room." He stated bluntly with his arms folded. "Would anyone like to tell me who did it?"

A few choruses of denial went around, one of which coming from Scout albeit a little more desperate as a burning sensation lurked up his spine. "Course not!" He said quickly. "Why would I steal some stupid razor blades?"

Medic scowled further, if that were even possible. "Well, I suppose I'll have to find out for myself." With that, he walked out of the room, possibly to inspect the other rooms. Everyone else resumed their chatter, not noticing (or caring, who knew?) that the Bostonian was trying to sneak away as well. He had to get to his room quick and hide those razors that he had placed underneath his bed.

"And where are you going, Mon ami?"

Scout stopped in his steps, panic setting in as he recognised that infamous French drawl. He was caught. The Bostonian tried to calm himself as the scent of wine, cigarette smoke and expensive cologne burned away at his nose. "What do you want, you back-stabbing frog?" he said in a blunt tone.

The Frenchman slid in front of the younger, a hand pressed against his chest and mock hurt on his face. "You wound me, boy! What did I do to earn such disrespect?" He asked, his tone laced with his taunting nature. "But, enough about me and what my faults are supposed to be."

"Then what are you doing here? Haven't you got a Sniper to kill or a certain BLU's mother to fu—?"

"You should know." The Spy slammed his hand against the wall, blocking off any escape. "I could tell you were lying there, it's so obvious." His other hand was placed on the Bostonian's other side, trapping him. "So come on, tell me. Was there any reason you took a mere box of razors?"

Scout snarled. "None of your damn business!"

The Frenchman smirked. "Oh please, are you planning to do something stupid? Maybe hop over to the BLU Base and slit some throats? Fancying yourself as a new Sweeney Todd, eh?"

He couldn't stop himself.

"Shut it! I'm trying to save him!" Scout shouted, irritation breaking up and the urge to get away bubbled in him.

Spy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"The Medic's CUTTING HIMSELF!"

As soon as the words left the Scout's lips, he immediately covered his mouth, regretting the revelation as the Spy looked at him in shock.

"What?"

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, do I smell plot advancement?
> 
> And also, I have to admit, the film version of 'Sweeney Todd' was really good. ^_^ Johnny Depp, Alan Rickman and Helena Bonham Carter FTW.
> 
> And what was I listening to while writing this? The OST for the Devil's Carnival. 8D


	5. Loose Lips

Scout completely regretted saying that.

He wanted someone to come along and interrupt them.

He wanted to become smoke and slip through the cracks in the floor.

He wanted to drag the words straight out of the Spy's ears and swallow them back down.

Too bad.

"The Medic is what?" Spy asks again, his voice quiet and tone serious. They had been like this for about two minutes, but the Scout felt that it had been for a hell of a lot longer than that. How did this happen again?

"F-Forget it." Scout snapped, hoping that he would be released at that moment and he could run away from Spy, away from what he had said.

The Frenchman scowled. "No. You said the Medic is cutting himself and now YOU'LL explain it to me!" he quietly hissed, his tone serious and threatening. "So then… get going. Tell me what you know and don't even THINK of lying about it, okay?"

Not that he had a choice.

The Bostonian slowly began his story, how he'd been sneaking around the base, that initial discovery, his subsequent visits and his plan to stop it.

Spy nodded, his face neutral but with cold eyes. "I see…" He said simply. "So that was what you had been doing all this time?"

Scout nodded, sniffing and looking at the floor. "Yeah… I know, but…" He looked up, his eyes glimmering. "Spy! You can help me stop him from doing that, right?"

The Frenchman was taken aback. "You wish to help him stop this?" he said, earning a nod in response. His expression and tone suddenly changed. "My apologies, but I can't help you."

"What? Why not!?"

"Self-injury isn't something you can stop immediately, you should understand that." Spy was serious, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the younger. "It happens because there is a very deep problem and so, the Medic won't stop unless he not only breaks the habit, but also comes to terms with what the problem is. But it's his choice, not yours."

The Frenchman backed away from Scout, taking in the angered expression. "The most you can do at the moment is give him support." He said, turning away from the young man. "But don't think that the problem will magically be solved. It takes time and whether the Medic is willing to stop it as well." Without another word, the Spy walked off.

The Bostonian growled under his breath, anger boiling up. How the hell could Spy say it like that? Did he even CARE? "Goddamn French piece of…" He growled, trying to hold back any tears that threatened to fall.

The elder's words lingered in his mind, the advice running tracks in his mind. Scout sighed, his frame still shaking from restrained emotions.

He considered those words and decided.

He would still help the Medic no matter what. 

But he had to come clean first.

**TBC...**


	6. Confronting the Medic

"Herr Scout?" What are you doing here?"

The Bostonian wasn't sure what to say immediately. What could he say? 'Yeah, I've been spying on you and I know all about how you've been cutting yourself'? As if!

After a little bit, he decided to take it slowly. "Well… I'll admit… I was the one who took the razors. I'll give them back to you later, okay?"

Medic sighed, looking slightly irritated. "Thank you for owning up at least. You could have done worse, but I still can't stand it when people take my belongings, no matter how miniscule it appears." He explained, going back to arranging the papers on his desk. "So, I must ask. Was there any reason you took my razors?"

Damn.

Scout struggled and stumbled for a legitimate answer, settling for something that could be stupid, but reasonable. "Well, I ran out and I guess it didn't cross my mind to ask you first. Sorry man." He secretly prayed it would suffice.

However, the German raised an eyebrow. "Alright then… Whatever you say." His tone was filled to the brim with suspicion. "But I'm wondering why you couldn't have gone to Herr Engineer or Herr Sniper instead. I'm sure even Herr Spy would have given you a few if you asked nicely enough!"

Double damn.

"Y-Yeah, well… uh… I didn't think of that either." Scout's babbling only gave away how horrible he was at lying.

Medic walked closer to the younger. "You're not telling me something." His statement was blunt and caught the Bostonian on the spot. "Confess. What is it you're not telling me?"

Well, it was going to come to this point anyway.

"How did you get those scars? Really."

The German crossed his arms. "I have already told you. It was many different accidents after the war. I thought you would be able to remember that."

"YOU'RE LYING!" Silence followed the outburst. "I know what they're really from… Don't think that I haven't figured it out just because no one else has!"

"What are you talking about, Dummkopf?"

Scout just felt too angry to give a damn about what would happen. He was going to end up admitting it one way or another anyway. "I know you've been cutting yourself, Medic! Don't think you can hide it from me!"

Medic's eyes widened, his expression puzzled. But his face darkened with anger. "So you've been spying on me?" He hissed. "You had no right to do such a thing! How DARE you!"

"Oh, so by stealing the razors, I could have saved YOUR life and I get repaid by getting' yelled at! Gee, thanks!" Scout shouted back. "So what! You don't care if you DIE or not, do you!?"

Before he could continue, the Bostonian was slapped across the face and was sent crashing to the floor. That was definitely going to leave a mark later on. The younger looked up at the other, both of them breathing heavily. "You don't understand… and you NEVER will." Medic looked ready to kill him. "Now… GET. OUT."

Scout couldn't say another word. He slowly got up and walked over to the door, turning back to look at the other one last time. He scowled angrily. "Fine. If you end up bleeding to death, don't come crying to me." With that, he slammed the door.

The Bostonian leaned against the door, sighing quietly. This was not what he had in mind. All the anger faded away into guilt, leaving him feeling hollow.

What had he done?

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA 'What NOT to do if someone you know is Self-Harming 101'
> 
> Hehe, I bet Scout would be acting very Rena Ryugu towards the end... or maybe I've been reading Higurashi too much?


	7. Blood

About two weeks passed since the confrontation.

Scout had avoided the Medic like the plague, still angry over what happened. At the Medic. At himself. He didn't entirely care that he may have had to encounter him again; he just felt too overwhelmed by it. But he still regretted those words he had screamed at the German.

'If you end up bleeding to death, don't come crying to me.'

Even if he brought himself to apologise for it, there was no telling if the Medic would accept it or not. How could he? Scout felt that he couldn't forgive himself if he were in the Medic's position in the whole screw-up. But guilt was piling up in his stomach the longer time dragged on.

He could always try.

Now the Bostonian found himself walking to the Medic's room. He stopped 'checking up' on the German, so he didn't know whether the self-harm had stopped or not. But the man in question still acted in his usual manner, so there wasn't really any easy way to gauge this. So, was it best to never find out…?

Before he knew it, the young man reached his destination and tried to turn the doorknob, which was locked. He raised a hand to knock on the wooden door. He stalled, contemplating all the different possibilities that could result. He could have a book thrown at his face, or maybe he'll listen without any ill reaction, or… or…

He put aside these thoughts and tapped quietly on the door. "Hey Doc? It's me…" He said, only receiving a quiet swear in response. The young man waited a bit before knocking again. "Listen… I wanna talk to you… can I come in?"

Nothing.

Scout tried a few more times before a sudden chill ran through him, accompanied by a dark thought. What if he was in trouble? What if he HAD still been cutting himself and he accidentally…?

He banged his fist hard against the door. "Medic! Are you okay!?" He nearly shouted, still receiving no response. He looked at the dark wooden surface for a second before going for broke. "Don't care if Engie blows a fuse over this…!"

The Bostonian stepped backwards and charged forward, his shoulder colliding the hard surface. He felt pain jolt through the joint and down his arm as he slowly back away. He tried again, achieving the same result, but the door refused to give way. Scout grimaced, as he rammed his body against the door, not caring if he shattered his bones in the process.

He stood back one more time, prepared to try one last time. He ran forward again, putting his all behind this one strike…

The door shattered, the knob and lock flying across the floor. Scout saw that no one was in the room and the lights were shut off. Even so, the Medic should have been in here; no one had seen him for the entire day!

He looked up and saw the doorway to the bathroom, opened a crack and allowing a thin stream of light to slip past it. Scout walked over and as soon as he pushed open the door further, his blood froze in his veins.

For lying on the floor, surrounded by a puddle of blood and taking small shuddering breaths, was the Medic. A few feet away, a small paring knife shimmered with crimson and silver and twinkled mockingly at Scout. The young man bent down and looked at the German. His skin was pale and across his right wrist were several heavily bleeding slashes, the red fluid trickling to the puddle. Scout turned the man onto his back and found that there was a large cut that started at his left shoulder and ended just above his navel.

Medic turned his head slightly and looked at the younger. "Scout…?" the man's voice was weak, pain etched in his eyes. "Bitte… Hilf mir…"

"Okay… I just need to… stop the bleeding…" Scout responded, a lump forming in his throat and his vision blurring. "Don't die on me!" He quickly grabbed some towels and attempted to stop the blood flow coming from chest since it looked the most severe. The white of the material was slowly tainted with crimson and the Medic's chest was rising and falling very slowly, quivering as if he was cold…

Scout's mind fuzzed over as he grabbed more towels and tissues in an attempt to stop the blood, only being able to focus on what he was doing, but he only thing he could hear his heart and breathing…

_"Oh my God! DOCTOR!"_

**TBC...**


	8. Wait

Dammit.

Scout sat in a hard plastic chair, staring at the clock on the wall. It declared that it was 4:00pm, at least fifteen minutes since he… found the Medic. It was a massive commotion that slowly dissolved into a painfully tense silence.

He could only just about recall what happened. As he was trying to stop the blood, Engineer ran in and tried to help as well. It turned out he saw the broken door and immediately knew that something was wrong. So the two of them called for the others and they took the Medic into the infirmary. But what happened between then and now became a blur. He could only piece together certain words, but even then most of them were jumbled and confused.

He barely acknowledged that someone had sat next to him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I still can't believe this." The Australian accent identified the other as Sniper. "I mean, I knew something was up with Medic, but… I never thought…"

Scout didn't respond. What could he say?

"You know, I've heard of some people doing crazy things if something's bothering them." The older continued, his tone still solemn. "But… again, I didn't think that this sort of thing would happen to Medic. I mean, sure his wife cheated on him with the Bloody Demoman of all people, but I thought he had gotten over that."

Still no response.

Sniper sighed. "You should be proud though. If you hadn't found Medic, well he would have died." He finally looked at Scout. "You shouldn't be beating yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault."

"It is."

The Aussie made a small noise out of confusion. "What're you talking about?" He asked. "You saved his life mate!"

"No, not really… I was the one who got into an argument with him weeks ago." Scout kept his eyes locked onto the floor. "So he must have done that because of what I said…"

"What do you mean?"

Here we go again.

Scout couldn't stop himself from recounting every last detail of what had happened ever since he found out the Medic's secret. Every open wound, every trickle of blood, every movement of the blade. Every. Last. God. Damn. Detail. But unlike when he said this to the Spy, he felt more at ease and less 'on the spot'. It felt more like an explanation than an interrogation.

As his words continued to flow, so did the tears that lurked in the young man's eyes. He couldn't care less if he looked like he was breaking down into child-sized pieces. He struggled to continue his account of what happened and why he never said a word of it, but he eventually managed to finish. He took in gulps of air as tears cascaded down his face.

There. Another one who knows the full truth.

Sniper couldn't say a word as he took in all the information and watched the crumbling Scout in front of him. He wasn't used to being in this sort of scenario, so he simply settled for draping an arm around the Bostonian's shoulders. "Why didn't you tell anyone about this?" He asked simply.

Scout sniffled. "I don't know… I-I wasn't sure what would h-happen if I did… I mean… Medic would have been real p*ssed off o-or…" He tried to form coherent sentences, only to have a sob rack his body. "I-I just… didn't know! Spy said th-there was nothing I could do, but… I-I didn't believe him…"

"Shh…" Sniper slowly rubbed the other's back, trying to calm him down. "I'm sure that Medic's fine. Just keep calm, okay?"

As if the words had been heard, the door to the Infirmary opened and the Engineer walked through, the front of his shirt and overalls stained with red. Scout sprung up to his feet and looked at the Texan with fear and anticipation writhing in his stomach. "What's happened, Engie?" He tried to control his breathing as the elder looked at the other two men. "I-Is he going to be okay? Please… just… j-just tell me!"

Silence lingered and the tension could be cut with a knife. The only sound that tried to penetrate the air was the clock's ticking and Scout's erratic breathing.

Engineer finally smiled, albeit with sadness. "Well, he lost a lot of blood and he was losing it real quickly too. The wounds were very deep as well." He explained, his tone serious. "But… we made it just in time. JUST."

"You mean…?" Sniper said, who slowly stood up.

The Texan nodded. "Yeah. He'll make it. He just has to rest for a few days and he'll be up and moving."

Scout let out a long shuddering breath as relief washed over him. He couldn't help himself. He hugged the other man and let a few more tears roll down his face. The young man knew how stupid he looked right now, but he was just so… happy that the Medic was still alive.

"Thank God…"

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for those of you who were anticipating what happened to the Medic, you may breathe now. XD
> 
> Also, I actually have this story on One document and as such, I filled up 12 pages. XD
> 
> And next chapter, we're back to Medic. :)


	9. Lachrymal Apologies

Two days later, Scout found himself lingering outside the infirmary, shifting his weight from foot to the other. He really wasn't sure if he could sum up any courage to go into the room and see the Medic.

But, maybe the other could accept his presence?

The Bostonian breathed in. Out. In. Out. He tried to still his feet and his hands, but they continued to tremble just as much. He kept on trying to even out his breath until he eventually managed to get it done. "Okay… here goes nothing…" He mumbled to himself and gently pushed the door open.

His steps were quiet and slow as he crept down the room, his eyes locking onto the last bed on the right. The IV bags that were filled with fluid and blood gave away who was lying underneath the white bedsheets. Scout forced himself to look at the Medic, no matter how bad he thought it would be.

The man's chest rose and fell quietly and slowly, a long line of black stitches running across it with bruises blooming around it. His hands were folded and his right wrist was bandaged, while the other had a small ID bracelet that the German made 'long-term' patients wear. Now that he was lying in bed with pale skin littered with scars and his glasses removed, the Bostonian noticed that the older man looked far more sickly… far more emaciated…

…Like he was dead.

Scout tried to formulate what he should say, anything that could alleviate the guilt he felt. He sighed and settled himself in a white plastic chair by the bedside. "Hey…" he started, his voice nearly silent. He felt a lump form in his throat as he briefly looked away, eventually forcing him to look back at the Medic. "I… I'm happy that… you're going to survive… um…"

He couldn't find a sensible thing to say, so he went with what had been lingering in the back of his thoughts for what felt to him like an eternity. "I'm… I'm sorry. For what I said and did… Actually, I should be apologising for everything…!" The young man's voice caught in his throat as tears ran down his cheeks. He could only choke out his next few words. "For acting like a complete jackass, for ignoring whatever you were saying… and just for not even THINKING about what you thought… I don't really deserve to be here, do I? I'm just a-a… stupid kid!"

Scout broke down, sobs shaking his body and droplets falling from his eyes and into his lap. His eyes shut tightly and he reflected on what he had just said. It was true that he was the youngest of the RED Mercenaries, but he always insisted that he was an adult no matter what the others said. As he thought over things however, he felt that at heart he was still the same child who played games with his friends, who got into fights with his brothers and who used to curl up by his mother's side after a nightmare took grip of him…

He felt more tears slide down and didn't notice something on the back of his hand. He didn't know what it was, but it felt so comforting and he cried less and less until they were reduced to sniffles. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands and saw a pale hand with its fingers placed on top of the younger man's own.

The Bostonian slowly looked up slowly and his gaze met the Medic's tired eyes. Scout wasn't sure how to react. Did he hear everything he said? He swallowed, his hands trembling again.

"Th-thank you…" The German's voice came out shaky and weak, as if it hurt to speak.

"No… I f**ked everything up big time and…" Tears lurked behind the young man's eyes again. "It's my fault what happened…"

"N-Nein Scout…" He turned his head to the side. "It wasn't… your fault… It was m-mine…"

Scout wanted to argue further that he was to blame, but at that moment, another burning question bubbled up to the front of his mind. "Why?"

Medic scowled, holding onto the younger man's fingers. "I've done this for years… After th-the War and… I just felt so hollow. I-I accidently cut myself… b-but the pain… it made me feel… better." He said, his eyes looking like they were only just focusing. "So… I continued… s-so I could remind… myself that I could still… feel… I wanted feel alive…"

"It only worsened… when things went on… My wife was killed in an accident… l-losing my medical licence… joining this godforsaken war… It all just c-came to the point where… I felt I had no control…"

"So… you weren't trying to kill yourself?"

The German gave a brief mirthless chuckle. "I never wanted… to die." He shut his eyes for a moment. "I just… wanted to be able to cope…"

Scout stayed silent, taking in what had just been said. So that's why the Medic had been doing this to himself… So he could keep on going. So he could try and keep in control.

So he could feel that he was not dead.

The Bostonian made a small noise in his throat. Without thinking about how it would be taken, he quickly got out of his seat and leaned down, wrapping his thin arms around the older man. He heard a small gasp leave the other's lips, but kept holding on. Another fresh wave of tears rose up as Scout attempted to stifle his sobs.

But as he felt Medic slowly and delicately wrap his arms around the younger, the young man broke down once more. But he could just about hear the German.

"Help me… please."

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done; I have an epilogue to do!
> 
> But yeah, one point I'd like to point out here is that even though someone may be self-harming, that DOES NOT MEAN THEY'RE SUICIDAL.
> 
> It's a coping device for them! It makes them feel like they are still alive! So please, don't assume that someone wants to die if they're doing this.


	10. Recovery

"Are you sure that this will work?"

"Hey, I heard that it's a good substitute!" Scout grabbed hold of the Medic's forearm and pushed up his sleeve with the other, exposing scarred flesh and the man's elbow. It was Day four of what the Bostonian dubbed as 'Operation: stop Medic from cutting himself and landing in the Medbay again' and it seemed to have gone well so far.

The young man's first job was to toss out the box of razors that the German kept in his desk drawer and replaced it with some red pens. It made the elder raise an eyebrow, but Scout explained that he heard that drawing lines on your skin with red ink would be a way to ease off of cutting himself.

It worked initially, but the Medic still wanted to feel a little bit of pain.

"I still don't entirely understand how doing this will do any good." Medic was still sceptical of the new method Scout had suggested. How could this even begin to work?

"Trust me on this." The young man responded, his hand digging into the ice box he'd taken from the Sniper's van (With reluctant permission) and pulled out two ice cubes. "You ready?"

The German nodded and took in a tiny hiss of breath as he felt the cold pressed against the crook of his elbow. His body heat slowly melted the cube and a trickle of water ran down his skin. He looked over at Scout, who was focused on what he was doing. "There… How does it feel?" the young man quietly asked.

"…Fine." He answered. "Thank you for helping me with this."

"No problem. Do you really think I'd let ya hurt yourself like that?" The Bostonian looked up again. "I don't care what anyone else is gonna say, but you still looked out for us even if we did some really stupid sh*t. I… admire you for that."

"What do you mean?" The German asked in confusion.

Scout smiled sadly. "I mean… whenever someone p*ssed me off, I'd always get mad and made it a hell of a lot worse… I think it's cool that you can keep calm." He explained, shifting the almost melted ice cubes around a little more. "If only…"

Medic raised his free arm and placed it on top of the Scout's head, ruffling it gently. "Patience is a virtue, but it needs to be learned." His tone was different, as if he was talking to someone very close to him. "But I can understand what you mean."

The Bostonian wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Why did the man's tone change so? Was it something else that the Medic hadn't talked about? Something that he had been holding onto as well?

Scout shook his head, clearing his head. It was possible that he wasn't entirely ready to fully admit it, but he was confident it would come out sooner or later. Because the Medic showed what lay under the clothes. What was underneath his professional exterior.

But he wouldn't have to hide it anymore.

**THE END  
DAS ENDE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, it's done! ^_^
> 
> Sorry, if the ending's kinda crappy, but hey, I'm still learning!
> 
> ~~Better than 50 Shades of Grey anyway. XD~~
> 
> Alright, so, a serious message here is that if you or someone you know is engaging in self-harm, you need to seek some help and advice. It may be a coping mechanism, but it also really dangerous and you may even die from doing so. There are plenty of services out there who are willing to listen to you and they will help you break the habit.
> 
> So, I hope you liked the series and gonna do some more things. :)


End file.
